


Choked up lungs and erratic flight

by Princex_N



Series: mint and wool sweater and vinyl car seat [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: ABA type abuse, Ableism, Angst, Anxiety, Autism, Autistic Gansey, Bad Parenting, Child Abuse, Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Meltdown, Paranoia, Past and Present, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stimming, Trauma, gansey's journal, shutdown, use of "quiet hands"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:59:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7690768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Jesus Christ,” Adam is saying, over and over and Gansey can hear the outraged tones of his parents but all he can understand is Adam’s breathless repetition of, “Jesus Christ.” </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choked up lungs and erratic flight

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic has **Explicit child abuse** in it through the pinning down of a child(teenager) by an adult, and is Not as lighthearted as the recent fics in this series. My plans for future installations Do Not have this fic as something necessary to follow the series, don't feel bad about not reading it if it might hurt or upset you! Please take care of yourselves!

Gansey family gatherings are an infrequent occurrence that Gansey does his best to avoid, for good reasons. 

He'd agreed to come down to his parents' house for the weekend because he couldn't justify not coming this time. Even still, the trip hasn't gone too badly. There have been no fights, arguments, or outbursts so far, not too many uncomfortable situations or conversations, but that doesn't stop Gansey from knowing that being called downstairs by his parents usually doesn't mean anything good. 

When Gansey reaches the bottom of the stairs, he's greeted by the other three members of his family. 

The first thing he notices is the look that Helen is giving him, the way she's holding herself. He can't tell exactly what it means, but it confirms his suspicions that nothing good can come from this situation. Anxiety curls through his chest as he shifts his eyes off of her and onto his mother, the one who had called him down in the first place.

His mother waves him over close to where she and his father are standing, Gansey casts another cautiously curious glance over at Helen before going to stand in front of them apprehensively. 

"We need to ask a favor of you." His mother says, which is nothing particularly out of the ordinary, but Gansey is already bracing himself for the worst. "We had an acquaintance over not too long ago for a fundraiser, who is interested in the same Glendower as you. While we were talking about it, we mentioned the notebook that you keep, and he asked if he could borrow it."

The word, "What?" is out of his mouth before Gansey can stop it. "No. No, he can't. I need it." 

"Oh please," Gansey's mother scoffs, "We all know that you have the contents memorized, you can't possibly still need to look at it to know what it says."

That is definitely not the problem, but Gansey can't find the words to explain what he means, not in a way that will satisfy his parents. 

Objectively, he knows there's no getting out of this, that doesn't stop him from looking to Helen for some kind of backup he knows he'll never get as he frantically tries to think of something that will change their mind. 

"No," is what he winds up repeating, "No, I..." he sighs, runs a hand through his hair to get it out of his face, "When, when would I get it back?"

"Whenever he's done with it, I suppose. We can mail it to you once he returns it."

That means that Gansey has no idea when he'll get it back.  _If_ he'll get it back. What's to stop the man from simply never returning it? His parents certainly wouldn't care enough to inquire after it. But what if Gansey discovers something significant in that time frame? He could just write it down on scrap paper until he could copy it down into the journal, but that isn't how it works. That isn't how he does things.

"I want you to go get it." His mother says firmly, and for an instant, Gansey feels the cool press of metal against his forehead and he flinches away from it. Runs his hands through his hair again. Tries to breathe. 

Gansey doesn't know who this person is, or why he wants the journal in the first place. He could very easily mess it up, write something in it, move the contents around, take it somewhere or touch it with something that could ruin the smell. 

The longer Gansey thinks about it, the more convinced he is that he can't allow this to happen, and the more he knows that his parents aren't going to allow him to refuse. He presses the side of his hand against his forehead, drags it across the skin there, shifts to rub at his bottom lip as he tries to think of what to do. He doesn't realize that he's started rocking back and forth on his heels until his mother says, "Quiet Hands." and Gansey feels his chest lock up as he instinctively tries to still himself.

He manages to stay still for a couple of seconds, forcing air in and out of his lungs in an attempt to calm himself down, but eventually the thoughts in his head, the pressure in his limbs becomes too much for Gansey to bear and he starts fidgeting again, hyper aware of his family's gazes, but ultimately unable to do anything about them. 

Gansey runs his hand through his hair, his father reaches his hand out and places it on Gansey's back. 

Snap. Gansey arches his shoulders back instinctively, trying to force himself away from the stinging burning touch and he moves to the side, out of his father's reach. A jagged hum falls out of his mouth before he's able to stop it, he presses the back of his hand against his forehead forcefully. Feels the pressure there. Tries to center himself. 

He has to give the journal away; he doesn't want to do that. He has to stay still; he doesn't want to do that either. He also doesn't want to get in trouble, which is what's going to happen to him if he doesn't sit still (Stand still? He's started to pace, his free hand tugging anxiously at his shirt. Distantly, he hears another, harsher, "Quiet Hands") He lets out another hum. 

"Richard. Quiet Hands." And Gansey's hands freeze, then come up to press the heels of his hands against the sides of his head, his breath comes out in a choking sob. His footsteps fall harder as he paces, and his thoughts are a broken mess, a loop of stand still stand still stand still echoing around, but he just can't manage it. 

Someone says something sharp that Gansey doesn't understand. His father has him on the ground before Gansey really realizes what's happened. 

Tripped, his father had tripped him. There is a knee pressing into the small of his back. One of his arms has been twisted behind him, pinned in place with his father's firm grip. Gansey's other arm is trapped under him, having wound up there when he fell. 

"You can't keep doing this to him." Someone says, Helen, and Gansey's mother says something to her, her arms up, placating. 

Gansey  _knows_ what to do, but it takes him too long to find the words. "Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry." Is what starts to pour out of his mouth, but  _no_ that's wrong. The word he has to say is 'ready', he has to say that he's ready, and he knows this but when he speaks all that comes out is a litany of apologies that his parents don't care about. But it's close, but the weight isn't lifting. The grip on his arm isn't loosening and Gansey doesn't understand. He hasn't quite done what they want him to, but it's close? He's gone as still as he can, some parts of him are still taught with tension, but he's gone limp, that's what they want. There are tears on his face, and the wetness of them makes everything worse as he sobs out the words, "Sorry sorry sorry", over and over again. 

"Get off of him!" Comes a startled cry that Gansey is too distracted to place for a moment. 

Adam. 

Damn, he'd forgotten that Adam was just upstairs. 

"Adam," Gansey's father says in a soothing tone, speaking over Gansey effortlessly. "Relax. This is what has to happen. He knows what to say to let us know he's ready to get up." 

 _'Ready, ready, ready,'_ Gansey thinks desperately, but all that comes out is, "Sorry, sorry, sorry." 

"Adam..." Helen says carefully, and there is a pause, and then there is the sound of rapid footsteps and a shadow passing over him and a sharp exhale of breath as the grip on Gansey's arm is gone and the suffocating pressure on his back is gone and he curls his arm back around to his front and cradles it against his chest, drawing his legs up and trying to make himself smaller and tries to breathe and tries to figure out what is happening. 

"Jesus Christ," Adam is saying, over and over and Gansey can hear the outraged tones of his parents but all he can understand is Adam's breathless repetition of, "Jesus Christ."

And then there are newer, gentler hands on Gansey, urging him to stand with a muttered, "Come on Gansey, please," and since it's Adam's voice asking, Gansey does. Heaving himself unsteadily to his feet and permitting the grip on his hand (not the one his father had held behind his back moments before) and lets himself be led away. 

There are stairs, which are difficult, but he manages. Dim lighted hallway. The creaking metal of the opening of a doorknob. The sound of the lock being turned behind him. Being sat on something soft. 

Adam is sitting in front of him and Gansey's handle on the situation has not gotten any stronger. He feels like he's sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool. He becomes aware of the fact that he is rocking, and that he should stop, but he doesn't. Blue's voice in the back of his head reminds him, _'It's not a bad thing, it's good for you.'_

Adam is speaking, but not to Gansey. "I need you to come pick us up... Look, something happened and I'm getting him out of here... I don't think it's a good idea for him to drive... Look, just get back here alright? And hurry." 

Adam is sitting in front of Gansey again. "Gansey?" He asks, "Are you alright?"

Gansey nods without thinking because he isn't sure and no one ever asks those questions for real answers anyway. 

"No, Gansey. Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is your arm alright?" Gansey rolls them both to check, the shoulders ache as they always do after this, but nothing sharp or grinding indicates that nothing has gone wrong this time. His face hurts from where he hit the ground, his chest aches, but not significantly. Gansey nods again. Adam doesn't seem satisfied with this answer, and Gansey doesn't understand why. 

He tries to think through what happened. 

"Pushed?" Is the only word that Gansey manages to force out. Everything is slow and heavy. Adam seems to understand anyway. 

"He was hurting you." Adam says, and his voice is lined with hurt and anger. "Gansey, Jesus Christ, why didn't you ever say anything?"

Gansey doesn't understand why he would have said anything. Said anything about what? There was nothing particularly unusual about what happened downstairs except that it hadn't happened in a long while. It was his fault anyway, if he had listened when they said Quiet Hands, they probably wouldn't have had to hold him down. 

He wonders if some of his confusion shows on his face. That would explain the wounded noise that Adam makes. 

And Normal Gansey would address it. Fix it. The Gansey of this moment is still partially tied up in a meltdown and is frazzled by too many things happening at once, and does nothing but sit there and try to sort through the mess of images and words his mind has become. 

And Adam doesn't say anything else. But he digs around in Gansey's bag until he finds Gansey's journal, and presents it to him, and Gansey takes it gratefully. Pressing it to his face and smelling it deeply before opening it and anchoring himself to language and the here and now with its words and maps and illustrations. 

Then he closes it and hands it back to Adam. "Hide it," he says, "before they come up here and take it." 

The pool is shallower, but still too deep, and Gansey doesn't know how much time has passed before Ronan shows up, a snarl remaining on his face from whatever he'd encountered downstairs, and he tries to look at Gansey to see if he's alright, but Gansey looks away because even faces are too much right now. And while Gansey sits there, smoothing his hands over the texture of the bed's comforter, Adam and Ronan heave up their bags that Adam had been anxiously packing while he was waiting. 

Gansey doesn't really want to follow them downstairs, but he does. 

"Richard," his father says, and Gansey tries and fails to hide a flinch. His hand snaps away from his mouth and down to his side. 

"Fuck off." Ronan says succinctly, before forcing both Adam and Gansey out the door and into the BMW. Adam is in the passenger seat, Gansey winds up in the back, packed in with the bags. Distantly glad that he'd decided to avoid traveling with the Pig this time. He doesn't think that his parents would do anything to his car, but he knows that he's pissed them off to the point where he doesn't want to risk it. 

He deliberately keeps his head down as Ronan backs up and takes off, spewing dirt and curses in his wake. 

Adam and Ronan are speaking in agitated tones, and Gansey should care about what they're saying, but doesn't. He's exhausted and wrung out, things are distant and he doesn't mind keeping them that way. He digs around in his bag until he finds where Adam had re hidden his journal, and he holds onto it to remind himself that he does still have it, and that he doesn't have to give it up anymore, and winds up falling asleep against the window. 

* * *

 

Adam is trying to calm down, but he can't. 

Gansey has fallen asleep in the backseat, his neck at an odd angle where he's leaned against the window, and there are still wet smears from tears on his face and Adam can't stop thinking about what happened. 

He looks so small; he'd looked so small there on the floor, and his father had looked so large in comparison. 

Adam had known when he'd agreed to go to Gansey's family's house for the weekend that something would inevitably go wrong. He just hadn't expected something like that. 

Adam finds it hard to trust older men on instinct, but Gansey's father had seemed alright. 

The stern weight of a full grown man on a crying teenager is not "alright" by any stretch of the word.

And it's not about him, but Adam can't stop thinking about _his_ dad. Gansey's father had said that it was Gansey's fault he was in that position. How many times had Adam's dad said the same thing?

Adam had always thought that Gansey couldn't possibly understand what it was like, and now he just feels sick to his stomach. 

He'd never seen any marks on Gansey though. But Gansey had already moved into Monmouth by the time that Adam met him. 

God. Adam doesn't know what to do. He keeps glancing in the BMW's mirrors, half expecting to see a car following them. He doesn't really think that they would bother per se, but the thought is there and Adam can't get rid of it. 

He catches sight of Gansey in the rear view mirror. Wonders how the hell he managed to miss it. 

"You look like you're going to vomit." Ronan snaps, and Adam startles, yanking his eyes away from the boy in the mirror to stare at the one driving. "Calm down. If you actually throw up in this car, I'm going to be pissed."

Adam can't stop himself from flinching a bit. He doesn't know what to do. Is this what Gansey felt like after it had become obvious what was happening at Adam's house? Christ, no wonder he'd been so obnoxiously adamant about things. 

"Look, if you want questions answered, you're going to have to ask Gansey." Ronan says suddenly, "But they don't hit him. I'm not saying that what they do is any better, but I can tell you're worrying about it. They've never hit him, as far as I know." 

Adam tries to feel relief at that. It's not as bad as it could be. But he thinks about Gansey on the floor again, his arm twisted back behind him and his father acting like it wasn't the first time something like that had occurred and the resigned and anxious look on Helen's face that confirmed it. Adam doesn't know or understand, but he can't say it's better. Can't say it's a relief. 

Ronan is staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and Adam wants to tell him to watch the road and mind his business, but he can't find his voice. 

"You're definitely staying at Monmouth with us tonight." Ronan says, and panic causes Adam's chest to clench. 

"No," he says, shaking his head vehemently, "They might go there." Adam knows it's unlikely, but he doesn't want to chance it. It's always safer to hide. "They don't know where I live. Stay with me tonight." 

His room was not made to house three teenaged boys, but it's better than the alternative. And he's prepared to argue his case, because Ronan will almost definitely argue, but to Adam's surprise, he doesn't. He's nodding. 

"Alright, fine." He says, "Your place it is then." 

-

Gansey wakes up as they pull to a stop, and there are dozens of questions lined up on Adam's tongue and he doesn't speak one of them. Gansey looks exhausted, stumbling slightly behind Ronan, seeming like he might fall over at any moment. The way he had the night at the dinner party. 

Gansey's desperation to know if anyone had heard takes on a different light that makes Adam's stomach hurt. 

Ronan leads Gansey up the stairs and Adam lingers behind, breathing in the evening air and trying to calm himself down as he surveys the road for any approaching headlights. He heads up a moment later, opening the door and closing it behind them, making sure the lock is in place and working effectively. 

"Sorry," he says finally, for Gansey's sake, pressing his forehead against the slightly warped wood of the door. "I just didn't want him following us."

"Better safe than sorry." Ronan agrees, glancing around. "Not like this place is any less of a shit hole than our place." 

Adam snorts out a weak laugh as Gansey shoves Ronan's shoulder ineffectively, "Neither place is a shit hole," he admonishes. 

There are so many questions Adam wants to ask that he feels like he's choking on them. The only one that makes it out is, "Do you want something for your face?"

Gansey stills, one of his hands reaching up to touch the forming bruise on his cheek, where he'd hit the floor. There's a too long pause before he says, "Sure." 

Adam immediately heads for the bathroom, closing the door even though he doesn't have to just to give himself a moment to think. 

He runs a washcloth under cold water, and thinks about the questions that he has and knows that if he was in Gansey's situation, he wouldn't know how to answer any of them and wouldn't want to anyway. 

He wrings out as much water as he can, and doesn't know what to do besides this. 

It doesn't feel like enough, but anything else feels like too much. 

He goes back out and hands Gansey the cloth, watches the other boy press it to the darkening mark on his cheek, and feels woefully inadequate. 

"I don't know what to say," Gansey says after a while of sitting in silence, he sways slightly where he sits, running his free hand over the cover of his journal. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," Adam replies automatically, "You don't have to be sorry." 

Gansey's hands twitch, he smiles sadly, "Neither do you." He says, handing Adam the cloth back, and Adam takes it, biting his tongue and searching for something to say. 

Because comfort was something that Adam was never given, and it become something that he never allowed himself. Adam is unfamiliar with comfort, and definitely doesn't know the words to say to offer it to another person. He has a desperate need to do something, fix something, but no matter how much he searches for something to say, he can't find a single word.

And eventually, Gansey falls asleep again, and Ronan follows hours later, but Adam doesn't. He stays awake, with his back pressed to the foot of his bed, and watches the door carefully. It's not much, but it's what Adam can offer. He can't say anything that can help or fix anything, but he can protect this sense of calm while it exists in order to prevent anything from breaking further. 

For now, that can be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic should be the only one with this type of content in this series, the next fic will definitely be easier to read and will likely involve partially nonverbal Henry Cheng!  
> also, in case anyone is curious or unaware: there are 2 reasons Gansey's father goes to restrain him in this fic, 1 is that Gansey did ignore the Quiet Hands, which is "noncompliance" and punishable by ABA therapy rules, restraints can be and are used as punishments (in addition to what basically amounts to torture: withholding food/water, spraying the child with water or vinegar, forcing them to eat wasabi peas, etc). Although this hold is technically not allowed to be used (as multiple children have died due to suffocation because of it), it is a technique (tripping the person, pinning them down with their arms behind their back, doing so until the person says 'ready') that was and sometimes still is used on disabled children.  
> Additionally, because Gansey has a history of self-injurious stimming, him putting his hands to his head the way he does to pressure stim here can be read as "going to hurt himself". This is why restraints should Not be used to prevent someone from hurting themself, it's scary and only really serves to escalate a situation in a way that could be avoided if the stimming is redirected (see: Adam stops Gansey from hitting himself in "A Sense of Otherness" by giving Gansey his journal, giving him an alternate stim, not by holding down his arms).  
> If there's anything else in this fic that you're curious about/want explained, please don't hesitate to leave a comment or message me at [my tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)! I'd be happy to explain and help you understand!


End file.
